


Accidental Dating 101

by ThunderstormsandMemories



Series: today college, tomorrow the world [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-21
Updated: 2013-09-21
Packaged: 2017-12-27 04:32:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/974375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThunderstormsandMemories/pseuds/ThunderstormsandMemories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre and Grantaire might be dating. Possibly. Combeferre isn't entirely sure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was the third time Musichetta had come to a meeting, and neither Joly nor Bossuet could tear their attention away from her, so for the third meeting in a row, Grantaire sat alone, drinking steadily and making long comments full of bitterness and bad puns. By now no one actually left at the end of each meeting; they all just broke up into individual semi-related conversations, and Grantaire had contented himself with watching and listening, now that Joly and Bossuet had someone else to talk to. So he was surprised when someone sat down beside him, and even more surprised when that someone was Combeferre. “You made an interesting point tonight.”  
“Did I?” said Grantaire. “I thought I was just rambling about something completely off-topic.”  
“It was an interesting tangent,” said Combeferre. “Using literature to prove that nothing ever changes because of the way people idealize the past every time there’s a change, so society just keeps shifting back and forth, giving an illusion of movement but never actually going anywhere. I disagree, of course, but it was interesting.”  
Grantaire nodded, acknowledging the compliment. “You make me sound so smart and able to form a thought-out argument. I just say whatever comes to mind and hope it sounds good to someone.”  
“Your arguments are very well thought-out. They would be much better if you were arguing for something instead of against everything. The pointlessness of existence isn’t a very convincing viewpoint.”  
“Maybe it’s too convincing; that’s why you work so hard to convince yourself otherwise.”  
Combeferre smiled, almost in spite of himself. “Touché.”  
“But I know, of course, that this doesn’t mean I’ve altered your thinking any.” Grantaire was doodling on the back of one of his speeches, but it wasn’t a particularly good speech and he didn’t mind enough to tell him to stop.  
“Not in the end, but you do make me reconsider things more closely and strengthen my original position.”  
“Glad to be of service.” His hands were covered in ink smudges, Combeferre noticed, and somehow despite his constant drawing Grantaire never looked away from his face.  
Which made him extremely nervous. “But it makes me wonder whether you have any set opinions on any of the things we discuss, besides disagreeing with whatever Enjolras says.”  
He shrugged. “Not really. Not much point. He has more than enough opinions for all of us.”  
“I have opinions too,” said Combeferre indignantly, straightening his glasses.  
“Yeah, but you present them in ways that make perfect sense but allow me to form coherent arguments to them. Enjolras’s opinions are always presented in ways that make you want believe them, and it forces me to be disagreeable, because otherwise I forget how much I disagree. You are the teacher, he is the priest; of course the nonbeliever takes more issue with one than the other, even when their messages are essentially the same. The firelight is too bright for my eyes, but the dawn is gentler and therefore more tolerable.”  
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” said Combeferre, thinking how unfair it was that some people could be so eloquent when they drank and alcohol only made him say things that sounded good in his head but made no sense at all to anyone else, and idly wondering if Grantaire had ever spoken to Jehan, who would probably be much more appreciative of his metaphors.  
“Good. That’s how it was meant. What? I’m hardly about to say that in that case I must’ve said it wrong.”  
Combeferre opened his mouth and closed it again, not having any appropriate response to that and still figuring out why he was so distracted by watching the way Grantaire’s fingers moved as he drew, so he settled for saying, “Did you just quote Downton Abbey at me?”  
“Maybe. I can quote lots of things. Though I’m a little surprised that you caught it. I would’ve expected you to find Downton to be a bit too concerned with the petty troubles of the aristocracy trying to resist the flow of progress or something like that.”  
“I can enjoy a show and still recognize that it takes place in a deeply flawed society. I have to, otherwise I wouldn’t have any shows left to watch.” Which might not be a bad thing, with all the other things I have to do. The alarm on his watch started beeping, telling him that he should’ve been starting work on his paper that very minute, and he was reminded that he had meant to leave ten minutes earlier. “I have to leave, sorry.” He stood up slowly and remained hovering there for long enough to make it awkward. “Continue this discussion some other time?”  
“Sure. Text me.” Grantaire handed back the speech, which now bore a decent portrait of Combeferre and Grantaire’s number in the bottom right corner.  
As he walked away, Combeferre sincerely hoped no one saw his face break into a grin.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Combeferre tells Enjolras and Courfeyrac that he might have a date with Grantaire, and they react accordingly.

“Do I have a date?” said Combeferre, laying on his stomach on Courfeyrac’s bed, trying to focus on the psychology text book open in front of him.  
The effect on the room was immediate. Courfeyrac jumped to his feet, upsetting the delicate spread of notecards on the couch in front of Enjolras, who frowned and fixed Combeferre with a look of extreme confusion and concern, as if he had announced he had a rare disease. “You- date- who- why didn’t you tell me?! You? Date?” Courfeyrac was waving his arms wildly, dangerously close to stabbing Enjolras in the eye with a pencil.  
“Um. Grantaire. I think. Maybe.”  
Enjolras blinked and stared harder, his eyes boring holes straight through Combeferre, and even Courfeyrac was momentarily silenced. “Grantaire? You? You have a date with Grantaire?”  
Combeferre squirmed and adjusted his glasses. “I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s actually a date. What’s the line between a date and platonic hanging out?”  
Taking out his phone, Courfeyrac said, “According to the internet, a date is ‘an appointment between two people of opposite genders who are romantically interested in each other.’”  
“The information on the internet is produced by a heteronormative, cissexist society,” said Enjolras, rearranging his notecards.  
“And yet if you take out the gender bit, we could all be dating each other,” said Courfeyrac.  
“Except for the romantic attraction thing. Possibly. Hopefully,” said Combeferre. “But how do you even determine that?”  
Courfeyrac was still pacing around the room. “I usually just ask. It’s not that hard.”  
“It is if you’re shy and you’ve never dated anyone before.”  
Enjolras looked up again, fixing Combeferre with that stare once more. “Do you like him?”  
When he didn’t answer immediately, Courfeyrac sat on the bed next to him, bouncing up and down. “Well, do you?”  
Combeferre bit his lip. “I might. I don’t know. I didn’t think I did at first, but I was talking to him and I just realized… he’s a lot smarter than I thought. And he says things that make me smile and I really like talking to him but it’s been so long since I’ve liked anyone and I didn’t think I had a chance…”  
Courfeyrac snorted. “You have this stupid smile on your face. You definitely like him.”  
“Does he like you?” said Enjolras, slightly aggressively.  
“I don’t know. I don’t even know if it’s a date. You’re both overreacting.” He hadn’t meant to start this kind of commotion; the only reason he said something was because if it did turn out to be a date and Courfeyrac hadn’t been informed, he never would’ve been forgiven.  
“Just be careful,” said Enjolras. “Don’t get your heart broken by him. If he wants to date you, he needs to love you like you deserve. He needs to put you on a pedestal and treat you-”  
“If you say ‘like a prince’ or ‘like a king’ I am marking down the date and using it as blackmail,” said Courfeyrac. “Let it be known that on this night Enjolras did use royalty in positive context.”  
“I was going to say ‘with the respect and praise due to you,’” he said, glaring at Courfeyrac. “And if he hurts you or breaks your heart I will hunt him down and make him regret every decision he has ever made.”  
“Seconded,” said Courfeyrac, and Combeferre was touched, if a little overwhelmed by how strongly Enjolras felt about the whole thing. “But what did he actually say when he asked? And what are you doing? And did he offer to pay? If he offered to pay for both of you it’s probably a date.”  
“You’ve paid for meals for both of us,” Combeferre pointed out. “We were texting, and he said… here, read it yourself.” Courfeyrac grabbed his phone eagerly, and Combeferre didn’t need him reading out loud, having memorized the sentence before realizing how silly he was being. He was definitely making something out of nothing, and he knew it, but still, it compromised his thinking. Would you grant me the honor of your presence tomorrow night at a time of your choosing at the Corinthe?  
The Corinthe being one of the most popular just-off-campus dinner date destinations. “He is totally asking you out,” said Courfeyrac gleefully. “You’re going to have a date, and he likes you and you like him and I introduced you.” Technically Marius introduced them via his failed poli-sci club (Bossuet still refused to touch chocolate chip cookies and Joly would not let either of them eat any of Marius’s cooking) but it was no good pointing out facts to Courfeyrac when he got like this excited.  
“I suppose he might like you,” Enjolras said.  
“But we don’t know for sure,” said Combeferre. “I don’t want to get my hopes up, I just thought I should let you know because you’ll both get mad at me if it does turn out to be something I hadn’t told you.” He went back to trying and failing to study, and Courfeyrac eventually settled down, though he never stopped humming Can You Feel the Love Tonight and casting knowing looks in Combeferre’s direction.  
A little after midnight, Enjolras left, saying that his roommate would worry if he didn’t return soon. Jehan did tend to worry about Enjolras, and Combeferre thought it was both adorable and a bit relieving, to know he wasn’t the only one who worried. As he was leaving, he put a hand on Combeferre’s shoulder and said, “Good luck. If you are dating, I wish you happiness. You’ve earned it.”  
They stood in the doorway, watching Enjolras walk away into the darkness until the only thing they could see of him was the glow of the street lights reflected on his hair. “I know what I said before,” said Courfeyrac, “and I still think you could be on to something, but it surprises me. I always thought…” He looked pointedly at where Enjolras had disappeared into the night.  
“I know. Until that text I never thought he could ever like me back. I always thought he was in love with Enjolras.”  
Courfeyrac shrugged. “People can love more than one person. And,” he shoved Combeferre playfully, “you have been wrong before. Not that I can think of an example at the moment but I’m sure it’s happened.”  
“Shut up.”  
“Do you want your phone back?” Courfeyrac took it from his pocket and waved it just out of Combeferre’s reach.  
“I didn’t realize you still had it.”  
“Of course you didn’t. You have five new texts, by the way. Eponine says that the making of the, and I quote, ‘totally legal smoke generators’ went well. Feuilly says that doing chemistry with Eponine is the most terrifying thing he’s ever done, and that includes boxing with Bahorel. Why are Eponine and Feuilly making smoke bombs?”  
“It’s always good to have a distraction handy, just in case,” Combeferre said sheepishly. “We have another protest this weekend, and you know they would’ve been useful last time. No matter how impressed Lamarque is with Enjolras, after a certain number of arrests even the university president’s influence can’t keep you from being expelled.”  
“Point taken. Joly wants to know if there’s psychology homework, and Cosette thanks you for agreeing to, quoting again, ‘bring some sense to that study group.’ And there’s one more.” By the length of the pause and the wicked grin on Courfeyrac’s face, Combeferre knew who the last text was from. “And Grantaire says he hopes looking forward to tomorrow night will make the time pass more quickly.”  
Courfeyrac was smirking, as if to say ‘I told you so,’ but the warm glow of hope in Combeferre’s chest was becoming tinged with panic. He’d never actually been alone with Grantaire. What if they ran out of things to say, and Grantaire realized that he was really more fit for debating theories and making plans than going on dates? What was he doing? Why had twenty years of learning not prepared him for a man with sharp sarcastic commentary and crooked ink-stained fingers who had crept into his unsuspecting heart as smoothly and easily as the words flowed from his wine-darkened lips?


End file.
